


Fine and Cool and Chill

by okemmelie



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Be More Chill, hatchetfield gets squipped, i've been thinking about this for so long so now i'm just going to write it /:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okemmelie/pseuds/okemmelie
Summary: Of all the characters at school, Paul is not the one who the story's about. He wishes he was; he wishes he had someone who'd just show him how to be fine and cool and chill. He also wishes he had Emma, even if it's her fault he ends up getting involved with the stupid school play. Also, what the fuck is up with Ted and why is he suddenly trying to be his friend?
Relationships: Bill/Ted (The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals), Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 27
Kudos: 19





	1. Paul's Theme

**Author's Note:**

> i desperately wanted to make a "ted is paul's squip" au but then i realized that i really just wanted to write a be more chill hatchetfield fic and ted ended up not being paul's squip and we mourn that but enjoy this /: i've been told to make mr. davidson be jeremy's dad and idk if i'm committing to that but please keep it in mind when you read because i DO think it makes it better and lksjdfsd

Paul wakes up a little earlier than he would have liked. It’s too early for his brain to function properly, but it’s too late for him to go back to sleep and have it be worth it.

High school is awful and there’s nothing about it Paul wants to deal with. Every single day, he wakes up and he goes to school, only to be ignored by his peers or even worse, shoved around, though to be fair that’s mostly Ted’s doing and he really does try his best to avoid Ted.

You see, Paul is not exactly what you’d call  _ popular _ – in fact, it’s quite the opposite. He’s lanky and weird looking, he’s got acne and honestly? If you looked up the definition of awkward in a dictionary, chances are you’d just find a picture of him there. He  _ wants  _ to be popular, he wants to be liked, he wants to fit in, but he just doesn’t. And it sucks, because he still has to go there every day and be reminded.

Not only is the whole ‘waking up too early and having to go to school today despite not wanting to’-thing an issue, but there’s more. More issues. Or he supposes just a singular issue. Paul’s woken up with a boner. And sure, he might have woken up early, but he’s not sure he’s woken up early  _ enough  _ to actually deal with it.

Whatever. He has to try, he decides. So he grabs his laptop and opens an incognito browser and looks up some porn, but god, the internet is slow and he hates it for not loading, because now he’s put in the effort and what’s he supposed to do, masturbate to the soft blue light coming from his computer screen? No thank you.

So he waits. And he waits. And he waits. And now, of course, it’s time for him to actually get up, because his dad knocks on the door and yells for him to get up and ugh. He gets out of bed and gets dressed and it’s kind of uncomfortable (it’s very uncomfortable, he’s not going to lie), but what is he if not uncomfortable?

He goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth and desperately tries to make his hair look at least somewhat decent. Then he lifts up his shirt to check if the thirty two seconds he spent working out yesterday has somehow given him abs – they haven’t, but his dad opens the door to the bathroom while the shirt is still up and it’s the worst.

“Dad!” Paul says, while trying his best to get the shirt back down in the most natural way he can. “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

His dad just shrugs. He’s wearing a t-shirt, a cardigan, socks and some boxers, and he goes to grab his own toothbrush. “We’re all men in this house, son.”

“Why are you not dressed? You were supposed to be driving me to school.”

His dad throws him some finger guns. “Yeah, about that. I’m working from home today, so...”

Paul sighs loudly, hoping that this will make his dad realize that he’s positively tired of seeing this, of living through this, of…  _ this _ . “Just… When I get home, please be wearing pants.”

His dad gives him an uncommitted nod and Paul prefers not to think about what that means, because most likely, it means that he’ll not be wearing pants once Paul gets home and ugh!

It’s not like he has time to think about it anyway, because if he doesn’t get a move on, he’ll be late for school and the only thing worse than being in school is showing up late for class and being noticed and possibly even called out by the teacher, because if he misses the bus he’s going to have to walk and that’ll leave him all sweaty and showing up at school drenched in sweat sound horrible. High school kids are mean, he doesn’t want to give them any more to work with because he’s already getting bullied enough as it is, thank you very much.

But the bus is over-crowded and he’s undoubtedly going to hate it if he gets on it, because he always hates it. Being all clumped together with popular kids who actually like each other and watching them live good lives, when all he can do is sit there and hope no one notices him because it’s better than the alternative? It’s horrible.

Not that he has time to overthink. He wants to, god knows he does and god knows he is. He wishes he could just stop but it seems so impossibly impossible. Maybe that’s why no one likes him. Because he’s an overthinker, because he has no chill, because he always does this instead of just making his mind up about literally anything.

The bus is there by the time he gets to the bus stop and he appreciates it, because that means he won’t have to make his own decision. The universe has done him a favor today and so, he gets on the bus and tries to make himself not look noticeable. Not that he wants to not be noticable. He does want to be noticable, he does want to be noticed. But in a good way. In a cool way. He wants to be cool, but instead he’s just Paul. On a bus. On his way to school.


	2. More Than Survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how long should it take to find a replacement for "tall-ass"? i don't know, but i sure did spend a million years or so figuring it out and it's not even good /:

“So Gary Goldstein said Melissa was all, ‘ _ I’ll only hook up with you if you beat me at pool _ ’. And then she lost at pool. Deliberately!” The most popular girl at school, Zoey Whitten, is standing right by his locker because her locker is right next to his.

It makes sense, but it’s also annoying, because she has her best friend, Charlotte, with her and they’re blocking his path to his locker. He’s really not trying to eavesdrop, but it’s hard when he’s trying to find his way to the locker and they’re right there.

“That is so awesome!” Charlotte says.

It earns her a look from Zoey that Paul’s quite certain could absolutely kill. “Charlotte!”

It makes Charlotte quickly correct herself. “I mean slutty.”

Someone pushes past Paul. It’s Gary Goldstein himself and he’s absolutely also been eavesdropping, because he tries to break into the conversation. “And then Melissa was all–”

“I’m telling the story, Gary!” Now Gary’s on the receiving end of Zoey’s dagger eyes and holy fuck, Paul’s happy it’s not him. Then, of course, she spots him. He wouldn’t say it’s the dagger eyes he recieves, but she does look kind of disturbed, kind of fustrated, kind of  _ disgusted  _ – but it’s whatever; Paul’s not popular and high school’s a shitty place, these are just kind of the things that happen. Zoey ushers her friends away and he can hear her whispering (well, kind of whispering; trying to) to them as she does. “Oh my god, he was like, totally getting off on that.”

It’s yet another reminder that Paul doesn’t like high school, because oh boy, he really doesn’t. But it’s fine, he supposes. Or maybe it’s not fine. Maybe it’s just something he can survive. Whatever. He moves forward to get to his locker and–

He walks right into someone.

Or well. Not just someone. It’s Ted. Of course it’s Ted. “Yo! Don’t touch me, freak!”

“Sorry, I was just trying to get to my–”

Paul wants to say locker, but he doesn’t get to, because Ted cuts him off. He cuts him off by shoving him against a locker (not even his own locker) and while Paul’s not entirely sure what’s happening, he’s pretty sure Ted’s writing something on his backpack and it sucks, but sometimes that’s just what it’s like being Paul. “You wash that off, you’re dead,” Ted tells him when he’s finally done.

So it’s definitely writing. Great. That’s just what he needed.

Ted seems like he’s about to say more, but luckily someone passes them. It’s Sam Hendrickson, the quarterback of the school’s football team and by virtue of that, one of the most popular guys at school. He seems to get Ted’s attention and it’s enough to pull him away from Paul. “Sammy H! What’s the story with Melissa?”

“I shouldn’t say,” Sam says. And maybe Paul would be willing to believe he was good enough to let that be it, but he’s facing him and there’s this way too smug smile growing on Sam’s lips as he winks in Ted’s direction. “But it’s a good thing I rock at pool.”

Ted follows Sam down the hallway and Paul’s able to actually catch a breather. Of all the existences at school, Ted’s one of the worst and not having to deal with him is a gift. After a moment spent collecting himself, Paul’s once again ready to navigate the school’s halls.

He’s not entirely sure who or what he’s looking for. Bill? Something to kill time with before his next class? He doesn’t want to seem like he has no one to talk to or nothing to do, so he stops to check out the notice board. A new poster seems to have been hung up there, so he goes to check it because checking a poster is far better than doing nothing and being alone.

But then he stops checking it out, because it’s a sign-up sheet. But not for a math club (which would get more people calling him a nerd, even though he’s not a nerd (he’s a geek and there’s a difference)) or literally any sports team (which would probably also result in him getting bullied because Paul is by no measure good at sports and he’s not really known for anything but being weird or strange or a freak or whatever, so it can’t end up being good). It’s a sign-up for the after school play.

It’s a sign-up sheet for getting called gay on top of all the other not good people probably say or think about him and that’s not what he needs right now, so Paul very quickly decides to move away from the poster in an attempt to live a better life with less mean comments and less stress (straight people just don’t understand how to use the word gay correctly and he’s so tired of it being made into what it is).

He awkwardly checks his phone, but sees movement in the corner of his eye. It makes him look up and that’s when he sees her. Emma Perkins.

She’s by the water fountain. She’s just getting water, not really doing anything special, but in Paul’s humble opinion? Anything and everything she does is special. There’s just  _ something  _ about her, something about the way she moves and talks and walks and– something about her. He settles with that as he continues to stare dreamingly in her general direction.

Something pulls him out of his dreamy state of mind. Well, someone. Emma. “Uh, hey dude.”

Paul bliks a few times. Is this really happening? Is she really talking to him? “Yeah?”

“I think someone wrote  _ ‘boyf’ _ on your backpack.”

Oh. Oh, that’s… “I, uhh…” Paul doesn’t know what to say or what to do and he can feel his thoughts running so fast, but he can’t make sense of them. He knows that if he tries to say anything, he’ll just stumble over his words and embarrass himself, so he doesn’t. He just storms off before his legs decide that he’ll stumble as he walks as well.

He goes to class, but he’s pretty sure he learns nothing because his brain is still running at a hundred and it’s making it hard to focus. Also, honestly, who expects him to finish? He just made a complete fool of himself in front of Emma Perkins and he hates that about him, he hates that he’s not able to say anything to her without feeling so, so stupid. Really, he should just accept that he’s one of those guys who’ll be a virgin ‘til he dies, but he hopes that one day he’ll get his shit together, that he’ll actually talk to Emma Perkins and that he’ll learn to more than just survive high school. He deserves to thrive, dammit!


	3. I Love Play Rehearsal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have high school ted attempted growing out his moustache yet? i think the answer is sadly no

The lunch at school is kind of lame, so Bill allows himself a moment of freedom once the break hits. He throws on his headphones and heads straight for the sushi place not too far away from the school; he’s deserved it, he decides, because he’s sat in front of Ted for the last 45 minutes and he can’t even begin to count how many rolled up balls of paper has been thrown in his direction.

He wants to mind it, he really does. He wants to be annoyed, but he finds himself feeling more enamoured. Sure, Ted is a complete asshole and reads as just about the straightest guy at school (that’s a lie, Sam seems straighter, but Ted is certainly up there), but Bill sometimes finds himself wondering if maybe, _just maybe_ , it’s just because Ted is a dumbass who doesn’t know how to flirt. _Boys will be boys_ , his mothers always says when his younger sister complains about the boys at her school pushing her around and teasing her. _That’s just how they show they’re interested._ Bill always tells his mothers that that’s stupid, but what can he do? He’s weak and Ted’s pretty.

But then, just as he steps back onto the school grounds after his sushi run (and his quick slushie stop in 7-Eleven), he accidentally walks into Ted. Ted, who pushes him against a locker and not in a homoerotic way, just in a slightly uncomfortable way that crushes Bill’s daydream about the teasing being kind in nature, because the fucker writes something on his backpack and tells him to not wash it off if he wants to live (something about death threats just doesn’t line up with his idea of Ted and it’s probably for the better that his dreams ends up smashed already).

“Bill!” Paul’s voice just about drowns out the sound of his headphones. He’s happy to see his friend who, by the look of the apple in his hand, doesn’t seem to have finished lunch entirely.

He’s approaching the end of a song so he decides that it’s fine for him to continue listening to it while he talks to Paul; they’re best friends, after all, and Paul should be used to him half-singing, half-talking to him at this point. “Paul, my buddy, how’s it hanging? Lunch is banging, had my sushi, got my slushie and more!” At this point, he’s reached Paul and the friends greet each other with their secret handshake (because of course they have a secret handshake, what kind of friends would they be if they didn’t?). “The roll was negimaki and I’m feeling kinda cocky, ‘cause the girl at Sev’ Elev’ gave me a generous pour.”

Okay, maybe ‘half-singing’ is a generous term to describe what Bill is doing. It’s just that he’s really vibing with the song, how’s he supposed to not sing and dance? He’s a loser anyway, so he might as well embrace it.

Paul sighs loudly. He looks uncomfortable, which is not unusual for his best friend, but it’s even more severe than it usually is. “You’re listening to Bob Marley again, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m listening to Marley,” Bill confirms, having completely abandoned the half thing. He’s going all in and he’s having a good time. “And the groove is hella gnarly and we’re almost at the end of the song.” He holds up a finger, as to tell Paul to shut up for a moment as he enjoys the end of the song. Then he finally takes off his headphones. “Yeah, that was the end now tell me, friend, how was class? You look like ass, what’s wrong?”

Paul turns around to reveal something is written on his backpack. “Boyf? What does that even mean?”

Backpack! Bill takes his off and puts it next to Paul’s. His backpack reads _‘riends’_ and with the bags neatly pushed together, it spells out _boyfriends_. It makes Paul sigh again, but Bill pulls out his phone to snap a photo of it. “My mothers would be thrilled!”

“I hate this school!” Paul announces. Again. Bill’s heard this tale about a million times, but they’re best friends, so he’s willing to listen again.

Well, kind of. “It’s all good. Hey, I saw on Discovery that humanity has stopped evolving.”

“That’s… Good?”

Bill nods to confirm that it is in fact good. Once he’s had a sip of his slushie, he explains. “Evolution is survival of the fittest, right? But now, because of technology, you don’t have to be strong to survive! Which means there’s never been a better time in history to be a loser!”

* * *

“Thanks,” Paul says when Bill points out that they’re losers. He is dancing in the hallway again. He’s being loud and he’s calling them losers and he’s drawing attention to them, which they really do not need. Paul loves Bill dearly, he does, but it’s a lot sometimes.

“So own it! Why try to be cool, when you could be–”

Paul cuts in. “Signing up for the play!”

“I was gonna say getting stoned in my basement, but–”

Paul cuts Bill off once again, this time pointing and turning him around so he can get a look at what’s happening. “No, I mean: Look who’s signing up for the play!”

It’s Emma.

Emma Perkins is signing up for the play.

When she’s gone, Paul hands Bill his apple. The sound of his friend taking a bite out of it is the last thing he hears before the whole world seems to disappear around him. There’s just Paul and the signup sheet for the stupid play. Bill gives him a little push towards it and it does kind of help get him there.

As he looks at it, his breath and hand shaking, he decides that it’s fine. He can do this. Who cares if people think he’s lame? Emma signed up, so he should sign up. He grabs the pen. He writes his name.

It’s fine.

Nothing bad happened. It’s f–

“Ha, gay!” Ted’s voice cuts the silence.

It’s followed by the laughter of other students. He even swears he can hear Zoey Whitten whisper that she likes gay people as she and her friends cross him on their way to class.

He’s really never gonna be the cool guy, is he? It’s like every time he tries to make a step towards being anything more than just Paul Matthews, loser, he’s met by a wall (and more often than he’d like it to be, that wall is people calling him gay and laughing in his face). God, he wishes he had someone to help him navigate this high school hell, to help him be cool. Is that too much to ask?

Bill walks him to play rehearsal after school. Paul doesn’t ask him too, but Bill doesn’t seem to believe he’s going to get through with it. And sure enough, as soon as he’s faced with the door to the room they’re supposed to meet in, Paul wants to run and hide. “I guess evolution’s not for anyone.”

Paul’s terrified. And perhaps Bill can see that, because he puts a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.” There’s a kindness to his face, that’s suddenly taken over by a grin. “Of course, I’ll mock you forever if you don’t.”

With a sigh, Paul leaves Bill outside the door. He walks in and there she is, sitting all alone in the room. Emma Perkins.

“Yo,” he tries.

It gets her attention. She looks up. “Yo.”

“Is this where you meet for the play?”

“Nope. This is where you meet for the swim team.” She looks at him with a raised eyebrow. It’s almost as if she’s expecting something, but she doesn’t say what. Paul turns to leave, because honestly? He can’t come up with a better thing to say or do. “I’m joking.”

“I’m Paul,” he says. Because if she’s joking, he can make a dad joke to lighten up the mood, right? God, it’s awkward. Is the school always this warm?

“Dude, are you alright?”

“Hnnh?”

“You seem nevous.”

“No, I always…” He trails off as he realizes that what he’s about to say sounds dumb. It kind of hurts, but he commits and continues. “Sweat this much.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re a virgin.” What? How can she see that just from– “First play rehearsal.”

It takes him a while, but he eventually gets there. “You think I’m nervous about play rehearsal?”

“Why else would you be shaking? Like… A lot?”

Paul laughs. It’s forced and awkward. “Yeah. Totally freaked!”

“It’s okay. I’m actually a little bit jealous. You never forget your first.” Emma gestures for Paul to come sit with her and after he gives up on piecing together why she’s talking about sex again, he decides that he’d rather do that while sitting next to her. “Play rehearsal, that is. Coming here is the highlight…”

“Of your day?”

“Yeah, right! Of my life! I love play rehearsal, because it’s the best! It’s so much fun. I really love being here and I get depressed as soon as it’s done. But not depressed as in like ‘kill yourself’-depressed, no I’m not into self-harm, dude, I swear, here, check my arm.” She pulls up her sleeve a bit, showing off her wrist and lower arm. “See, I just use the word to emphasize a point, show the passion that I got, I am passionate a lot.”

She talks. About play rehearsal. For a good while. And Paul listens, because there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing than sitting here, listening to Emma Perkins.

“I don’t know, I just… I like that they give you texts and directions, it makes everything so much easier, you know? And I don’t know, it’s like… I like being the center of attention, y’know? But the only time I really _get to_ be the center of it is when I’m on the stage, when I’m Juliet or– or Blanche Dubois, and can I mention that that was really one of my best roles. I was incredibly commanding, I think. It made me feel like there just aren’t strong roles for women in theater these days, particularly high school theater, do you find that?” She pauses and looks at Paul, and he quickly nods even though he has about zero opinions on high school theater. “Because I totally find that.”

She continues ranting to even longer and it’s a joy to listen to. Paul finds himself entirely enthralled by the whole thing. That’s why it comes as a surprise to him when Emma suddenly looks confused. “Why am I telling this to you?”

Paul shrugs. He has nothing better to contribute with.

It just makes Emma shrug as well. “Guess there’s a part of me that wants to.”

“Really?”

She nods. “But, I mean, there’s also a part of me that wants to do this.” Emma makes a strange sound that takes Paul a little aback. It’s charming, he just hadn’t expected it. “So I did it.”

“Uh...” He wishes he knew what to say, but he really doesn’t. “So, uh... Where’s everyone else?”

“Oh, we’ve been slipping in membership lately. I guess it’s just the two of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends, emmelie here!!! my brain is not cooperating with me updating this fic lately so i'm accepting that it'll just,,, be on hold until i vibe again. sorry!!!!


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